


The Way To A Mans Heart

by brokenstereotype



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Based off of a dream I had, Established Relationship, If Strong Were A Fic Basically, Interviews, M/M, The Best Kind Of Dirty Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 01:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15131699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenstereotype/pseuds/brokenstereotype
Summary: During an interview, Niall gets asked to explain just what Harry had whispered in his ear during a dinner party to make him go so red in the face.





	The Way To A Mans Heart

“Congratulations, again, on such a beautiful album!” The interviewer gushes. Her name is Jenny and she is very good at her job. She’s professional and funny, not like the interviewers who abuse their position to flirt with their guests.

“Thank you.” Niall says sincerely. It’s always heart warming to hear people compliment his work and it always brings a flush to his cheeks with pride.

The atmosphere in the studio is comforting; the crowd laughing appropriately to his jokes and when Jenny jabs at his golfing habit. It’s nice and easy and exactly how he wishes all interviews would go. He sits with loose limbs and fingers that lack their usual anxious tapping and his cheeks ache from smiling so much.

“I do want to know one thing, though,” Jenny says. She takes a sip from her mug full of water and crosses her legs daintily. “How does one go from writing these broken hearted lyrics to being where you are now; happy and laughing and in a loving relationship. How do you move on from that loss of a deep love?”

Months ago, if someone would have asked him that, Niall would have laughed it off, picked at his jeans anxiously and let the interviewer talk around the question for him.

Now, though, “It wasn’t easy, at first. I was in a bad place and the world felt too small. But, I had support and people who still loved me. I learned a lot from that relationship; how dangerous and terrifying it is to be so consumed in another person and how fragile love really is.” His voice is steady. He likes talking about this now – his struggles and mistakes and how he built from them.

“My partner now, he is the most brave and strongest person I know. He’s seen the darkness in the world and he just, he carries it with him and finds a light for it. He understands anger and how some people can love each other but know that they’re better off without.” He says fondly.

Jenny listens with soft eyes. It seems as of the entire studio is holding their fists up to their chins in empathy and he almost expects to find a cue card instructing them to coo at him.

There’s a poster card on the desk that Jenny picks up, her mouth taking on a teasing smile.

“I have to admit that I’ve been invested in your relationship, but only because you two are just so cute.” She pouts adoringly. “I couldn’t even be upset about the fact that you've taken Harry Styles off of the market.”

The card in her hand gets turned around and a picture that Niall is all too familiar with has been blown up and the audience cat-calls obscenely.

Niall blushes, thinking back to the insanely posh dinner party for an organization raising money for cats for some reason. The food was shit, drinks overpriced and watered down and the music was not far off from the Titanic soundtrack. Thankfully, Harry was there, bitching about being the youngest there and having to wear one of his nice suits just to be scolded for laughing too loud.

The picture shows the two of them tipped close together, Harry's face smushed against Niall's ear. His hair frames the side of his face so only Niall knows that Harry had the biggest shit eating grin on his face. Niall's own face is shocked still, face blotchy and burning under the shit lighting. His fingers are clamped tight to the edge of the table, tablecloth stretching under the pull of his grip.

Jenny smiles toothy at his reddening face, “Now, just what exactly was Harry saying to you?” She’s teasing, her voice taking on the cat that got the milk levels of smug. Niall wants to laugh, not sure who's going to come out of this looking like the fool.

Niall explains in a too loud voice, “Oh, he was talking absolute _filth_ in my ear.” Because It’s true. Harry knows how to bring him to his knees with a careful roll of the tongue around any mundane word, but that night he had just been playing dirty.

He nearly moans thinking about it.

“That party was awful and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep. But Harry kept saying these _things_ to me, knowing I couldn’t do anything because we were surrounded by uptight New Yorkers.” He says and wipes his sweating palms on the expanse of his jeans.

Jenny nods like she knows. But she has _no idea_.

Niall laughs the laugh of a flustered man, feeling the weight of the audience leaning into the edge of their seats.

“See Niall,” Jenny says sadly. “Now you’re just teasing us.” She winks to show that she means no harm.

Niall looks out into the crowd and takes in their gaping mouths like their drooling for it. He laughs again and scratches at the back of his neck.

“Alright,” He fakes defeat. “I’ll tell ya. But only because you haven’t asked me what it’s like to kiss _The Harry Styles_.” He mocks, but he really is grateful. It’s kind of insulting when people ask him that.

All at once, it seems like everyone scoots to the edge of their chairs. Even Jenny leans her ear closer.

“Oh, man. I can’t even – he does this thing where he’ll speak like right at the bottom of your ear, where the little hairs stand up if something grazes it. Maybe that’s just me, but he uses that against me and he started off by saying –“

His breath is jumping in his throat and he wonders for a second how telling it would be if he took a sip of water.

“He said _when we get home, m'gonna take you out of this suit. Burn it if you'd let me. And I’m gonna let you take me out of my suit, but not burn it because this is silk_.” He laughs and there are a few halfhearted chuckles. Nobody wants to hear the sappy shit, they want the raw and the dirty.

“And then he just went for it. Said _I’m gonna go into the kitchen, yeah, and I am going to make you the biggest dish of lasagna, because I love you_.” Fuck, his breath is so thick and hot, there should be a haze of fog around him.

“Practically moaning about melted cheeses and meat and the _wine that he’s been saving for something special_.” He says, trying not to lick his lips at the memory.

It’s so quiet in the studio, for a moment Niall forgets where he is. Jenny is watching him with amusement and disbelief, as if she really expected him to start spilling x-rated fantasies on national television.

He barks out a laugh, addresses to the audience, “What? You can’t tell me that doesn’t turn you on.” He raises his eyebrows, using the arm rests to sit up straight in the chair. There’s murmur amongst the audience, though none of it sounds very positive. Inquisitive at best.

“Seriously? The thought of going home – to the house that you made a home with the love of your life, where you keep your insecurities and doubts and fears and the things closest to your heart mixed with those of the person you are absolutely gone for. That doesn’t make your heart race?” He says. He’s thankful that the mic is clipped to his shirt pocket and not where his heart is or the entire studio would be able to hear how much just talking about this effects him.

“Imagine leaving a boring ass dinner party that you didn’t want to be at in the first place. Imagine getting to strip out of those itchy, constricting clothes and slipping into sweats and a shirt of your significant other’s. And that shirt smells like them; like home and comfort and love.” He watches the faces of the audience turn sweet and syrupy.

“Now think about that person, dressed in their softest and rattiest clothes that they’ve had since they were eighteen and their hair is messy and they go into the kitchen and cook you your favorite meal. And there’s music playing, an old song that was playing when you first kissed and you’re watching them, thinking _this is what I’d rather be doing on a Friday night_.”

He swallows suddenly because even though it started off lighthearted and brazen, he’s now turned this into a confession revealing more about his relationship than anyone was anticipating.

“It’s terrifying, yeah. And it’s vulnerable and it makes you weak.” He says. It feels like a conversation he should be speaking into a microphone, hear the feedback of his words like an echo speaking just for him. But as it is, he only has the blue gawky mugs and the picture of him and Harry to speak his feelings at.

“It also makes you strong and whole and brave and that – that turns me on more than anything.” He says it with conviction, but he’s not trying to convince anyone of anything. That was the easiest thing he has ever said in his life and it just feels _right_.

He looks away from the pull at the corner of Harry's mouth, already thinking about stealing the photograph once the interview is over.

The audience is stunned. There’s no other way to describe their parted mouths, stuck around unsaid thoughts and the air around them stilted as if no one has breathed since he started talking.

Jenny coughs, wipes away fake tears. Her voice is loud when she speaks like she’s forgotten how quiet it had gotten in the room. “That was beautiful and reminded me of why you have the number one album in the country! You can’t fake this stuff!” She throws her hands out at him and claps, the sound multiplying by a hundred as the audience contributes enthusiastically. Niall finds himself blushing, mouthing _thank you_ ’s and trying to wave them off playfully.

The cheers die down after a few minutes and, feeling on top of the world, Niall smiles around his teeth and says,

“So, next question?”


End file.
